The Darkest Night
by Emily Quick
Summary: "All things truly wicked start from innocence." Ernest Hemingway
1. Chapter One

The paper said the hail was supposed to turn to snow, but it didn't seem like it. The little pellets drove onto the ground like bullets. Aurora adjusted the newspaper in her hands, sipped tea from a big cup, and listened to the hail pound against her window like giant nails spilling from a toolbox. It seemed like it would be an unpleasant sound, but it was quite the opposite. The sound made her want to do nothing more than put on her pajamas, curl up in her massive bed, light the fireplace, and watch a movie or read an old book. Because she had a meeting in two hours, though, that wasn't an option. Instead, she was dressed in a long, black pencil skirt that was tailored by her maid, Sarah, to fit her perfectly, with black high heels and a blue dress shirt tucked in at her waist. Her blonde hair hung heavy and straight on her back and shoulders, and her makeup was dark, but not strikingly so. With a dramatic roll of her eyes and a scoff, she dropped the paper onto the table. The main headline talked about Bruce's return; it wasn't about the good of it, rather the mystery. Where was he? Why was he gone so long? Was it a woman? And her favorite: Did he kill Joe Chill? _Of course not_, she thought. He wasn't that type of man. Not that she knew him enough to deem that statement true. For the time being, she was going to doubt he was even back. With the town so screwed up, topics to write about ran scarce, so the media dug up whatever lies they could to get people reading.

It had been months since Bruce Wayne had been seen or heard from, but Gotham somehow managed to carry on with its usual business. Corruption, extortion, trafficking... The usual. The absence of Batman, however, wasn't like that at all. He was only around for a few weeks, and even then, no one was sure he existed. Only the rumors of Gotham's least trustworthy fueled the fear of Batman. He vanished when she was seventeen, a little before Bruce left. She assumed they were in some sort of collusion, because when Bruce left for his trip at twenty, Batman vanished into thin air. Crime rates rose again, as the crooks and scum that were hiding hastily took back to the streets in hopes to take care of their "business" before Batman returned. Just the idea of Batman scared everyone bad away, but as soon as he wasn't there to keep the fear fresh, everything was back to chaos.

Despite a freshly fallen blanket of gray snow-slush, the entire city seemed darker; something was always on fire, and no matter where you looked, you would see a thug running rampant. The Gotham City Police Department arrested anyone doing something that passed as suspicious, even if it was digging through a purse or walking slumped over with a hood up. You never know in Gotham. It was understandable that the police force was scared like the rest of the city, but their cowardice and lies were still unheard of. Arrest the little problems, let the big ones run free because the commissioner is either paid off or too scared to fight. That seemed to be the GCPD's motto. Because of that, no one really seemed to be out from three o'clock in the afternoon until the sun rose the next day. Unless, of course, you were the one percent, in which case everything was white picket-fence safe.

Aurora Rider was part of that small fraction. She never accomplished anything great that gave her the wealth she had; she was just a girl who had a few advantages from growing up as a Rider and friend of Bruce Wayne. Her and Bruce's fathers went to university together, and remained friends and associates after graduating. The two families merged together right away, thus forcing the two children together, whether or not they wanted to be. Holidays, charity events...you name it. They were always together. After Bruce's parents were killed, though, everything changed. She could still remember the morning she had to leave his house. The morning she had to leave poor Bruce alone with Alfred. When the big door of Wayne Manor closed on her, and her father and mother urged her toward their car, it was like locking her in a solitary cell. It was storming outside, but the rain didn't faze her as it streamed down her face with her tears. Everything she knew was in that house with her best friend, and all she wanted was to go back and be with him and make him smile again. They didn't go to the same parties or events anymore. She didn't get to go to his house or help Alfred cook.

She was too little to understand, only eight when it happened. Bruce was only eleven, but he understood perfectly. He changed the most. He always seemed so dark since that day. So isolated. He never healed, never moved on. If anything, he went deeper and deeper within himself every year. _People grow up_, she told herself,_ but they don't change completely_. Aurora was the only one who could really tell. Maybe it was because he never left home. Maybe it was because his butler, Alfred, just couldn't take care of him like his parents could have. It was something no one knew, and something no one would ever know.

She and Bruce were never in contact—the only times they ever really spoke were at parties and other events, and that was just to show the press about the great bond between the Riders and Waynes as business partners and families even after such traumatic events took place, which was supposed to help the people of Gotham trust Wayne Enterprises more or something. But that only lasted when she was little, and happened three times.

After Bruce turned fourteen, he disappeared to go to different schools and programs around the country. Six years later, he was twenty and she was seventeen, and the press claimed Bruce either just left for a ski trip in the Alps, or was running because he murdered Joe Chill. They were undecided about the event, even though there was no evidence against him, and dragged it out for weeks. They were just bored. It seemed like he never returned from school before his 'vacation' except to show up at one Wayne Enterprises board meeting. And leave early.

The advantages granted to her by growing up with the Wayne family for that short period of her childhood were few, but each one was major. One was her affluence. Since her parents were in business with Bruce's, their income was always plentiful. They were honest, trustworthy people, and truly deserved the money they made.

Another was her job at Wayne Enterprises. Bruce left home before she even applied for a position in the company, so he didn't know she worked for him. Her position was below Bruce, below all the board members, and below everyone else but the newest members of the company. Because of her family's money, she easily afforded an Ivy League school on the east coast, so when it came to the business, she knew what she was talking about. She just didn't care for the attention. And Wayne Enterprises was a man's world; no one wanted her leading that company anywhere. But at some point, someone up top in the company found out who she was, and promoted her a hundred times over until she was almost CEO of the entire production. Aurora never found out who it was, but she liked to think it was Bruce. Who else would have done that?

Finally, she had the privilege of someone being there when she needed something. Aurora hardly reached out to him, as he was probably always too busy for her. When she did, Alfred would answer. Occasionally, she would head toward Wayne Manor, but turn around halfway there in doubt of herself. As soon as he was declared gone on his trip, though, she would go visit with Alfred, talking about anything that came to mind. The last time they spoke, she could hardly read more than a picture book. So it wasn't the idea of Bruce being there when she needed him, rather having Alfred instead of just Sarah.

Tea finished, except for the bitter bit at the bottom, she placed the mug atop the newspaper, pulled her black coat over her shoulders, and dashed out to the car waiting in her driveway. It took no more than twenty minutes to drive to Wayne Tower. Inside the main lobby, there was no one but her and the two secretaries at the desk in the center. Aurora greeted them on her path to the elevator.

Her heels clicked against the expensive stone floor in an echoing rhythm that went off the beat of hail pounding against the marvelous windows. Over all the muffled sounds in the room, she heard a low voice. She didn't think anyone else was there yet, as it was a Sunday, she was an hour and a half early, and no one really should have been there but the secretaries and those who were going to the meeting. When she turned around to see who it was, she saw someone leaning over the desk of the pretty secretaries with a small, almost seductive smirk on his lips. They giggled as he flirted with them, and Aurora just rolled her eyes. The men in the company were pigs.

She pressed the 'up' button again, not wanting to have to bear witness to that, when the man walked over and stood right next to her, also pressing the button to go up, even though she already did twice. Aurora looked over at the black-suited man, back to the elevators to check what floor each was on, then up at his face. She had to look at him for a second, and he had to glance quickly down at her before she realized who he was. It was something familiar in his dark eyes—the same dark eyes she saw a long time ago.

"Bruce?" Aurora asked softly, just in case it wasn't really him. He looked the same as he did when she saw him briefly when he was twenty, but this was six years later, and there was something about him that was unnervingly different.


	2. Chapter Two

Gotham. His return to the city was relatively quiet, but that wasn't necessarily good. Looking out over the city from the top floor of his dark, empty penthouse, it seemed altered. Darker. _Perhaps it's because I'm looking on it with new eyes_, he thought, then heard a familiarly accented voice behind him.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Alfred?" he inquired, not taking his eyes away from the skyline of the city. The sun just fell over the horizon, painting the sky with various warm colors, turning the city in front of it black.

"As happy as I am with your return, the _city _will need to recognize the return of Bruce Wayne, as well."

"What did you have in mind?" he asked, turning to face the older man with a small smirk.

"I believe the circus is in town, sir."

"The circus? Alfred, come on." He tilted his head to the side slightly and raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, sir. But this isn't just an ordinary circus. It's the most famous circus in North America; Haly's Circus. In fact, I believe Vicki Vale will be covering it on site for Gotham City News. It would be a good way to reintroduce yourself to the public."  
Bruce sighed and turned around to face the city once more. Alfred was right. In order to protect his identity, he'd have to keep up public appearances. "Alright, Alfred." He could tell he was satisfied; he had been pushing Bruce toward going out since Bruce's return a few days ago. He knew Alfred thought he was crazy in the way he decided to go about cleaning up Gotham, but the law wasn't getting it done. Blackmail, extortion, murder... It was running rampant in the police force alone. In the first six years on his absence, it only grew worse. He came back for a month before he left again, finally able to do something about it. But that didn't work out as he hoped.

"I've laid out your finest suit, sir," Alfred informed, joy present in his voice. Bruce nodded silently and walked to his bedroom.

By the time he got to the circus, he realized how right Alfred was. It was full of celebrities from Gotham, swarmed by herds of paparazzi, and there were a dozen microphones shoved in his face the second he stepped out of his limousine. The press shouted their unintelligible questions in his direction, but he didn't have to answer because a group of large men dressed in all black formed a path and urged him through it, toward the main tent of the circus. From there, an usher wearing a red vest and a pin that read 'The Flying Graysons' led him to his seat.

"Who are 'The Flying Graysons'?" Bruce asked the man, getting a smile in return.

"Oh, Mr. Wayne. You're in for a treat," he answered and turned back toward the entrance, Bruce watching him go. Among the sea of people the red vest blended into, one face stood out. Salvatore Maroni.

Bruce heard from Alfred that he was filling in as head of the Falcone crime family while Carmine Falcone was 'incapacitated'. But after his body was found two days ago in the Gotham River, Bruce knew Sal ordered the hit on Carmine. The police couldn't identify the body, but Bruce wasn't the police. Since he returned four days ago, Bruce left several tips to the District Attorney, Harvey Dent, but Sal has yet to be prosecuted.

Suddenly, the lights darkened and a spotlight blazed down on the center of the circus floor.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" a voice boomed, and its owner appeared in a cloud of smoke. "My name is Mr. Haly! You're all in for a special performance, for tonight is the final performance of The Flying Graysons!" The crowd roared wildly. The act was clearly a big deal. After going on about the acts in store, the man vanished in a new puff of smoke and the spotlight flung upward to a family of three, all standing and preparing for the trapeze.

The youngest was the first to fly, and he was spectacular, flipping and connecting by himself, then grabbing onto his parents to continue the act. He couldn't have been older than eleven. The crowd began to die down, awe taking over the excitement. Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce spotted Salvatore Maroni and his two bodyguards heading toward the owner's booth. His eyes narrowed and he slipped away from his seat, hidden by the crowd as he followed the trio. Bruce leaned against the corner of the wall and clicked a button on the 'cell phone' in his pocket, recording them.

"Look, Mr. Maroni, I just don't have enough money to be paying you for protection on the side. I'm sorry." Extortion. The Falcone family was notorious for it.

"No, Mr. Haly, _I'm _sorry. Because when something bad happens to you and your circus, you won't have the protection you so desperately need." The thick Italian accent made him feel sick to his stomach. The scourge of Gotham's underworld extorting a circus.

"If you don't need anything else, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Big mistake. Maroni was known to act violently toward disrespect.

"Heh. Sure thing, Mr. H." Bruce clicked the button on the recording device in his pocket to turn it off, deciding it was time to take his leave, when a voice called out from behind him. "Mr. Wayne! Welcome back!" Bruce faced him, expression stoic.

"Maroni," he said flatly in reply.

"You know, you and I should get together sometime. Maybe a round of golf." He threw his arm around Bruce's shoulder and smirked. "We can talk business."

"No offense, Mr. Maroni, but in lieu of your recent misunderstanding with the GCPD, I'm afraid I can't be seen doing business with you. It would look bad for my company." He returned the smirk and continued on his way, feeling Maroni's eyes as they practically burned a hole in his head.

Bruce exited the tent and was again met with a barrage of reporters, including Vicki Vale. "Alright, alright!" he shouted and raised his hands up to get them to quiet down. "One at a time."

"Mr. Wayne," one man called out, "where were you?"

"I was on a skiing trip in the Alps."

"For six years?" the same man urged.

"Have you _seen _the women in Switzerland?" The crowd of reports laughed, and a female voice picked up where the man left off, clearly not as amused.

"Why come back now? Does this have anything to do with the death of Joe Chill?"

"No," Bruce stated. Joe Chill. The killer. The man who changed the course of Bruce's life forever when he killed his parents in cold blood right in front of him. He was found dead in his prison cell after he declared he would testify against the Falcone family and Maroni. What did anyone expect to happen?

Right on cue, Bruce's limo pulled up and Alfred opened the door for him. As they drove away, Alfred glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "I trust you enjoyed the show, sir?"

"I did. I found out Maroni is extorting the circus," Bruce explained.

"Shocking."

"I need you to send this sound bite to the DA. It'll help the prosecution." He set the gadget on the seat next to Alfred, then sat back and took a deep breath, looking out the window.

"Sir, don't you think it's a bit dangerous to attack the head of the mob?"

"Maroni has had this coming far too long. He has Commissioner Loeb in his back pocket. No cop would dare put charges that heavy on Maroni."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that, sir," Alfred replied and dropped a copy of the previous day's newspaper in his lap. The title read: Hero Cop Saves Family of Four.

"Lieutenant James Gordon? You think we can trust him?"

"That's something you'll have to decide for yourself."

The next morning, Bruce sat in a soft armchair, drinking a glass of orange juice, watching the morning news. Vicki Vale was reporting.

"Tragedy struck Haly's Circus as the family known to the world as 'The Flying Graysons' were found brutally murdered in their trailer. The only surviving member of the family, Richard Grayson, will continue to travel with the circus, despite his family's plans to travel abroad. Let's see what Mr. Haly had to say about the horrible events that occurred last night," she said, the screen switching to a frame of Haly, tears in his eyes and young Richard Grayson beneath his arm. He seemed so lost._ He couldn't have been older than eleven_.

"It's a tragedy," Haly stated. "They were amazing people. They deserved so much better than this." He started to choke up and the screen flashed back to solemn Vicki Vale.

"From Amusement Mile, I'm Vicki Vale. Back to you."

Bruce shut off the television, disgusted. "Another child." His voice was shaking with anger. "Anonymously contact the DA. Tell him to get in touch with James Gordon." He stood from the chair and faced Alfred, who was standing behind him. "Also, Lucius Fox is head of the applied sciences division of Wayne Enterprises. I'd like to get in touch with him, as well." He paused. "I think it's time we move back to the manor."  
Alfred smiled. "I'll have it done by lunch, sir."  
Bruce nodded silently and started walking toward the garage. "I'm going to talk to this boy."

His Lamborghini sped down the streets of Gotham, zipping past the slow-moving traffic. He knew he wouldn't get pulled over. In this town, a traffic violation was as much an offense as putting a sock on inside-out. The thought made him shake his head and exhale. If you expect people to respect the big laws, you have to enforce the small ones.

He drove over the Gotham Pioneer Bridge at a great speed, making his way to Amusement Mile, car sticking out like a sore thumb in Old Gotham. He arrived minutes later, watching from his car as the circus packed up. Bruce slipped out of his car and looked across the empty lot, where he found the trailer closed off with crime scene tape. He walked across the lot to the trailer next to it and knocked on the door a few times. The same boy from the performance, Richard Grayson, answered. He looked miserable and exhausted, completely different from the confidence he exuded just last night. The boy's eyes widened slightly.

"You're Bruce Wayne!"

"You know who I am?"

"There isn't a person alive who doesn't know your name, Mr. Wayne." The boy paused. "You here to ask questions? I already answered enough." Bruce put his hands in his pocket and crouched down slightly. That was a feeling he could sympathize with.

"I came by to talk to you. I want you to know that I understand what you're feeling. What you're going through."

"Oh, yeah, rich boy?" he shot, raising a brow. _Ouch_.

"My parents were killed, too. Right in front of me. I know what it's like to be left alone." His facial expression was apology enough. "It's okay. I wanted to tell you that if you ever need anything, Richard, go to Wayne Tower and ask for me." Bruce pointed toward the skyscraper marked with a large 'W'. The boy nodded and Bruce turned to leave.

"Mr. Wayne?" he asked. Bruce turned to face him. "No one calls me Richard. It's Dick." He smiled slightly, a gesture Bruce returned. The shared pain between them was palpable. He knew he would hear from the boy by the end of the week.

As soon as he was back in his car, Alfred called. "Yes, Alfred?"

"I've done everything you asked, sir. And Mr. Fox expects you for a meeting at two o'clock."  
"Roger." The line cut off after Bruce hit the 'end' button on the screen in the center console. He started the his car and sped through Park Row, back across the Pioneer Bridge, and to the Diamond District, the location of Wayne Tower. Bruce entered the ground floor after parking on the street right in front of the building. He made his way for the elevator, stopping to make an appearance with the secretaries on the way, then pressed the 'up' button and smiled briefly down at the girl next to him before watching what floor each elevator was on.

"Bruce?" a soft voice called out. No one called him by his first name anymore. He turned around to locate the voice, but found it was the girl standing right next to him. He tried to recognize the face of the beautiful blonde woman, and when realization struck, his brows raised slightly in surprise. Aurora Rider. He knew her before he left. She was different than every single employee he had. She had dreams, aspirations, and_ plans _for Gotham. And for more reasons than just those, she was contender for the position of CEO of Wayne Enterprises, somewhere she never would have been had Bruce not found out she was working there when he returned to Gotham briefly before leaving again.

"Aurora. How long has it been?" he asked with a smile.

"Six years, judging by the day the media told everyone you were gone. I can't be sure, though. You never did say goodbye to me."

"I'm sor-"

"It's fine," she stated with a smile and that same soft voice. "I've heard how the women in Switzerland are." Her grin was small and it was clear she was toying with him. _This keeping up appearances is going to kill me_, he thought.

"You should let me explain that."

"You could explain it to me at dinner," she suggested, her small smile growing. "No disappearing."

"No promises," he replied, smiling back. "Seven o'clock sharp. The Blue Heron."

Her smile widened just a little more. "Mr. Fox is expecting you. You should head down to the bottom floor. In case you've forgotten, that's where applied sciences is located."

Bruce faced forward again and made a face at the realization of the 'up' arrow being the only one pressed. She said nothing in reply as he turned back around and pressed the arrow pointing _down_; she just smiled like a little girl in a candy shop and stepped into the elevator heading up.


	3. Chapter Three

She still felt the high of surprise from seeing Bruce again after the meeting. There was a small smile on her face that just wouldn't go away, and it got people to look at her funny. She didn't care. Aurora Rider stepped out from the elevator, now in the empty, ground floor lobby, and pulled her coat back over her shoulders. Three men standing near the exit didn't make her any more worried than walking around Gotham would—she assumed they were bodyguards of some important political figure or something. By the time she was at the door, they were planted firmly in front of it. "Excuse me," she started, "I need to-"

"Miss Rider," one of the men started in a thick Italian accent, "our boss would like a word with you." And with that, they jammed a dark bag over her head and carried through the hail to a car. It was a long while before she was granted the privilege of sight again, and when she did, she wished for the darkness to return. It wasn't the kind of light that illuminated an entire room; all she could see was herself, the chair she was tied to, and about a foot in front of her. The light was stark white and burned her eyes. Instead of making a fool of herself and searching desperately through the thick blackness for a face or any sort of key that would give away where she was, she kept her eyes down on her knees covered by her skirt.

"Miss Aurora Rider. Next in line for CEO of Wayne Enterprises. You certainly have a bright future," someone spoke from the dark in an accent similar to the men who took her, the idea that he knew exactly who she was clearly meant to intimidate her. It worked. "It would be a shame if it all vanished before your eyes." Cold metal pressed against her temple and she gasped, eyes finding those of the man who must have spoken to her. He was severely Italian, and looked as harsh and cold as the middle of winter. Aurora knew that face. Salvatore "The Boss" Maroni. He was in charge of all bad business in Gotham, so the fact the he was standing before her with a gun to her head made her wonder what she could have possibly done to get involved with him. Her eyes went from his face back to her knees. "Here's my proposition. You tell pretty boy Bruce Wayne that if he doesn't start to talk serious business with me, you're the one who's going to end up at the bottom of the Gotham River. And with winter coming around, they probably won't find your body until the water thaws in spring." As the man finished, he was met with a herd of deep voiced chuckling from the darkness. "Capiche?" Before she could have thought of anything clever to say back to him, a sharp pain in her arm made her jump and make a small noise, and the room started to spin around her in a pool of black and white. No matter how much she fought, her eyes fell heavy and her hands relaxed without her permission as a dark weight as crushing as the Italian man's gaze dropped on her. "He'll know who I am." The man said, chuckling once again. Everything went black.

When she woke up, she was at her own home in her own bed, covers pulled over her and tea sitting on the nightstand on a silver platter with sugar and honey in their rightful containers next to it. It was all a dream? Aurora moved to sit up and realized that it was not, in fact, a dream. Her entire left arm was sore, and a certain unnatural exhaustion lingered deep inside of her. What time was it? Pushing through the discomfort, she rolled over to look at the clock. 7:30. She wasn't out for too long, then. She sat up and stretched, and then realization struck. Aurora shot out of bed, which she immediately regretted because of the head rush that came with it, and scurried to her closet. She was going to be late to meet Bruce. She glanced quickly at the large mirror outside of her closet, and then froze. The girl was already in the dress she planned to wear, her hair brushed and jewelry on. It was unnerving and creepy to think of who could have done it, but she tried to push the thought out of her mind and accept that it happened and there was no changing that.

She spent five minutes searching for her phone before she found it. The number for Wayne Manor would have been dusty if it could sit on a shelf. Hoping it hadn't changed since he left, she pressed call and waited for an answer. There wasn't one, but it did go to voicemail recorded with Alfred's voice. She left one explaining she would be late and apologizing for it, then hurried out the door, coat on once more, and slipped into her car. She sped to the restaurant they planned to meet at and searched desperately for Bruce. What was she supposed to tell him? There wasn't much he could do about Maroni. It seemed like there wasn't much _anyone_ could do about Maroni. Of course she didn't want him to hurt her, but who was supposed to protect Bruce? A host took her coat and folded it over his arm, and then led her to Bruce's table, giving her the opportunity to check if there was a noticeable mark from whatever Maroni knocked her out with. There was, but it was tiny. She sat at the small table and the host rested her coat on the back of the chair.

"I tried to call..." she began nervously.

"I'm always an advocate for arriving fashionably late." Bruce smirked.

The nerves she felt didn't fade in the slightest, so she had to make a desperate attempt to hide them. Aurora brushed her hair back over her shoulders and kept up her smile. "It's understandable that you would be," she began, "since you took a six year absence and didn't think to inform _anyone_." The hurt in her voice was clear, almost overpowering the fear. She couldn't understand why she felt so offended. They didn't know each other anymore, and being close as children didn't mean anything. She regretted forcing him into dinner with her, but he _did_ agree to go, so maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. Her sarcastic tone was a little too intense for their second conversation in so long, so she tried to lighten up a bit. There was already a glass of dark, red wine sitting in a crystal glass on the table. She took it casually and sipped from it. The conflict of whether or not she should tell him what happened distracted her; he was an observant man, and would find out sooner or later. And while later was preferable, it would probably be sooner. "You left and this city burned, Bruce," she stated with a slight smile. It was odd how easy he was to talk to after all these years. "Who would have thought you're such a big influence even though you spend most of your time locked in your cave of a manor?" Still harsh. Aurora exhaled, embarrassed, and drank more of the sweet wine. "I'm sorry. It's just...Gotham is a lot worse than the one you left all those years ago." She quickly finished the rest of the drink and circled the rim tiredly with her finger, quiet and afraid to talk again in case she made an even bigger fool of herself.

_I really should tell him_, she thought. _He deserves to know. He deserves to find some way to protect himself_. But pulling him into the mess with Maroni wouldn't do anyone any good. However, just what they did to her in that short amount of time was traumatizing, and she didn't even do anything wrong. As soon as she did something against Maroni's wishes... She shuddered at the thought and looked up to find Bruce had been speaking to her.

"Yeah," she nodded in agreement with whatever he said, laughing once under her breath.

"Yeah?" Bruce repeated back to her, smirking. "So you _have_ had a rough day, then?" It was clear he could tell that she wasn't paying attention as they spoke. Bruce gave her a stern look and asked, "Did something happen?"

She blinked at him, trying to figure out how her answer could have been non-applicable. Aurora didn't have enough experience with this kind of thing to slide by without listening to a single word. "You don't know the half of it," the girl mumbled and sat back in her chair. A passing waiter stopped and curtly refilled her glass before leaving to tend to the other customers. It was hard to make eye contact with Bruce across the table because she knew she was going to lie to him, and he knew when she was lying when she was eight; how could that intuition change? Her eyes stayed trained on the collar of his suit, just below his face so it would seem more like she was looking at him. Now it was uncomfortable. "Just a lot of guy problems," she passively continued from behind her already half empty glass. "You wouldn't understand," Guy problems—it wasn't a _total_ lie. "Speaking of guy problems," Aurora began in desperate search of a subject change, "tell me about all those Swiss women on your ski trip, Mister Wayne. I hear they're just wonderful there." Both her brows raised expectantly and she leaned forward on the table. The pressure on her arm gave it an uncomfortable, sore pain, so she sat back again. She realized she switched her angle to one that would allow him to see the small bruise around the spot of the injection for just a moment, so she had to readjust her angle nonchalantly, which was sadly the hardest thing she ever did.

Half of herself said to tell him, half of herself said to drink until she couldn't walk straight, pass out in bed, and let the evening end.

#

She seemed tired, the way she eluded him. But who was he to feel that way? He would dodge personal questions all day if she was the one asking. He decided that if she was going to tell him, she would, wondering what happened to the sunny little girl he remembered her as.

Bruce shrugged off the 'guy problems' statement, the way she said it made it seem as though she would rather avoid the topic. "The women in Switzerland?" He almost forgot his alibi. "Oh," he barely smiled, "I've got to keep the press interested. I spent most of my time in the Alps." He smirked as she raised her eyebrows, playing this game with him. He noticed the slightest grimace on her face as she rested some weight on her arm. He narrowed his eyes and caught a glimpse of the bruise on her arm, which she quickly tried to hide from his view. "I'm more interested in what _you've_ been up to as of late, Miss Rider," Bruce explained, taking another sip of wine.

He noticed Aurora was downing the glasses like they were water. Peculiar. Bruce would never drink to a level of intoxication; it only dulled the mind—a complete waste. But he could certainly play the part of the drunk billionaire.

#

_What were you doing in the Alps for six years?_ she thought. Aurora went skiing with a friend of her for three days when she was fifteen, and even that was too much. "I'm sure you had to entertain yourself _somehow_." She smiled a little and refilled her glass herself. Many years ago, she gave up caring what Bruce thought of her. They never saw each other or spoke, and they were just as rarely at the same events. But now that he was back, her feelings for him were already changing, even though she begged them not to. She sipped from the glass again.

Did he not get that she wasn't planning to tell him about the day's events? Or did he know something was up? Aurora drank the rest of the wine, set the glass down gently and just looked at him for a long moment. "You know who Salvatore Maroni is, right?" Her eyes narrowed just enough to make it seem like she was genuinely curious, or maybe even had a story to tell about some scandal that went down in his absence. She trembled slightly with nerves. Her hands were the only things that shook, so unless she was downing the wine, they were placed elegantly in her lap. How would he respond when he told her? What would he say? Would he believe her? There was something the man said to her while he held that gun to her head: He'll know who I am. Who wouldn't? He was infamous for being one of Gotham's worst people. Aurora chewed the inside of her lip, waiting for him to respond. She took another long sip of the wine after the waiter refilled it. Three glasses and dinner hadn't even arrived yet.

#

He didn't know how long he could keep going with the charade. He found himself drifting in and out of focus as he remembered the night that he left Gotham. It was a setup—a trap for him.

He was brand new to the life of Batman, and the city had yet to take him in. Hell, _he_ had yet to take the _city_ in. He was doing some simple surveillance on the GCPD, and around that time, Harvey Dent was still working in internal affairs and was in collaboration with Batman. He was on the trail of the SWAT commander Branden, who had been under the suspicion of Dent for being an enforcer for the Falcones. As Batman, he broke into Branden's home while he was on duty, but was met by the entire SWAT team, who also had plans to raid Branden's home that night. Even with all of his training he couldn't disarm and incapacitate all of them, and was stuck in a crossfire.

He was brought back suddenly by Aurora's mention of Salvatore Maroni.

Bruce's head snapped up. So that was it. It was easy enough to see that she had been threatened by him now that she said his name. He would play along, giving her the idea that he was still ignorant to the events of the night. "Of course. He's the head of the Falcone crime family. Everyone knows that," he stated. He brought his glass to his lips but only pretended to drink from it. His voice was nonchalant, perfectly portraying the increasingly intoxicated rich man.

All he needed was for her to tell him what happened. It would be enough to testify and put The Boss behind bars. "Why do you ask?"

Aurora's hands moved anxiously in her lap when she replied. "I have a friend who called me today—Anna. I guess Salvatore had a message for you, and Anna didn't think she'd be able to meet with you to tell you since you just got back. She said he told her to tell you that if you don't start talking serious business with him, he'd start to kill...people. He said you'd know who he is. She wasn't sure if she wanted to tell you or not until early today when she called me. That's why I was late." The waiter came at the end of her sentence, setting down two plates of fine cuisine. He watched her move it around absently on her plate, taking a few bites here and there. "So, she was wondering what she should do now that you know." His eyes locked with hers and he saw a light that was familiar to some distant part of his memory, and was now a breath of fresh air.

Great, it was a "my friend" story. Nevertheless, it gave Bruce the information he needed. Aurora must have been confronted earlier in the day and threatened by Maroni. If he knew that he could get to Bruce by attacking her, then perhaps it was time for him to stop playing games. He had all of the evidence stockpiled, he had someone willing to prosecute, and someone willing to make the arrest. All that was left now was determining when to strike.

He took another false drink from his glass of wine. He thought about the situation as the waiter set down his dish in front of him. He began eating at the same pace as Aurora; slowly and absently. Bruce looked at her with a fixed, hard expression. "Well, normally I would tell her to get in contact with the GCPD and enter protective custody, but who knows who you can trust there nowadays?" He rested his chin on his fist, counting the glasses as she downed them. How many now? Four? She had a right to a little self-indulgence.

His attack had to be that night. If he didn't attack Maroni right away, who knew what could happen by tomorrow? He checked his watch: 8:00. It was still too early. "Maybe Anna should take the day off tomorrow," Bruce suggested nonchalantly as he took another "sip" from his glass. He looked at her with an expression that said, "I see right through your story".

#

Just as embarrassed as she was afraid of the situation, she let him talk to her and tell her what he thought she should do. One of the options he gave her, going to the police, was not _really_ an option. Half of those guys would have no problem handing her over to Maroni. The other half wouldn't be able to protect her. And taking the day off wouldn't matter; home or working, they could get to her.

"Maybe my friend," she continued slowly, "isn't sure she's safe anywhere." That was when he gave her that look, the one that said he knew there was no Anna who was threatened and that she was talking about herself. She almost blushed, giving a pained smile to the waiter who refilled her glass. The food on her plate was arranged into piles of small pieces. This was not how she wanted her evening to go. "Do you have somewhere you need to be?" Aurora asked, watching him glance at his watch. That would figure. He was a busy man. She took a deep breath, the thought of being left alone after everything sending a rush of anxiety through her.

"No," he explained, bringing his focus back to her.

"Just..." Aurora paused, sighed. "Just tell me what to do, Bruce." The act was up. If he knew, there was no point in pretending he didn't.

"How about I drive you to Wayne Manor? You can stay there tonight." Her worried expression didn't fade. The last time she stayed at the manor was the night before Bruce's parents were killed. "Wayne Enterprises has powerful allies, Aurora," he winked, sending heat through her. Damn Bruce Wayne and his way around peoples' heads. She nodded in agreement to his offer. "Good. There's nowhere safer in all of Gotham." He explained, giving her a reassuring smile. It was true. When it came to security, Wayne Manor was supposed to be like a fortress. Impenetrable. "I wouldn't worry too much about our friend Sal." She nodded absently.

#

Her cheeks darkened in response to his wink. If he could pull her mind off Maroni and onto more distracting matters, he could probably get her to calm down.

"What about you?" she asked, drinking even _more_ of the wine. It would have been in her own best interest if she stopped, but it was also best if she could get herself to relax so he didn't have to mess with her head. "You're not going to give him whatever it is he wants, are you? I mean... What is it that he wants?"

"Don't worry about me, Aurora. Of course I won't give in. I don't negotiate with gangsters. He just wants a cut of the company's profit." The waiter passed by their table. "Check please," he turned his attention back to Aurora. "We can talk more in the car."

If he could get Aurora back to his home, he could have Alfred monitor her from the cave while The Batman went about his business. It would be the first night in six years he had donned the cape and cowl. He was confident enough in his training to be successful on this mission. If he could keep Aurora safe, then Maroni's leverage would disappear.

#

The waiter quickly brought the bill. Bruce paid in cash so they could leave as soon as possible, and left a large tip. Aurora pushed back her plate, finished the wine, and stood. "I'm following you," she said. Bruce put her coat around her, expertly avoiding the bruise from the injection, but it did little to warm her. By the time they got to his car, the weatherman for the paper became right. The hail turned to heavy snow, causing a shudder of cold to wash across her. Bruce got her door, then walked around to his own side.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked, looking over at him. It was weird to confide in him so much after twelve years of scarcely even talking. It was only eight fifteen, but winter made it dark at six, and the heavy snow only made that worse. Aurora wished she could have grown up with him, been around him more and knew the answers to all the questions the GCPD and press were always throwing in peoples' faces. But she didn't, so the rumors and lies told about him were all she had to go off.

"Anything."

An overwhelming amount of thought plagued her mind. There was so much she could have said in that moment; she could have told him how she wished they could have grown up together, or how sorry she was for what happened to him, or told him everything he didn't know about her, but instead, she just settled with a simple, "I missed you," and looked out the dark window to the even darker city.

"I missed you, too, Aurora." Those few words had plenty of impact.

Still cold, she pulled her jacket tight around her waist and hid her hands under her arms. She was beyond drowsy from exhaustion and the wine. There was a gentle whirring she could hear over their breathing—a sound that worried her, like something about to go wrong with his car—but she couldn't stay focused on it. The white noise it created made her eyes heavy. It was quiet for a few minutes before she spoke again. "Why would he use me? Why wouldn't he just threaten you directly? How am I a part in this at all?" Aurora remembered Maroni saying that she was soon to be the CEO, but she wasn't yet, so what could she possibly mean to this? It had been years since she even saw Bruce; even more than that, they really didn't speak since they were kids. She meant nothing to everyone in the equation, so it made no sense to her why she was even involved.

#

She was really the only thing that he missed about Gotham. It was a plague to the world, a festering wound. There are those who would seek to destroy it and those who would seek to rule it, but on the night his parents were slain he made a promise to rid Gotham of anyone who would seek to harm it. He kept a consistent speed to account for the falling snow. Bruce was a masterful driver, but it was better to keep Aurora relaxed.

He noticed that she seemed cold, so he reached to the center console and turned on the heat, which covered the sound of the computer running in the background. Bruce took a deep breath, knowing the answer to her question before she even finished asking it. "He knows that I won't simply buckle because he's a crime lord. He must have some way of knowing that we have history, and he's trying to use you as leverage. It's a coward's tactic, but it's what you can expect from a gangster." He could tell that she was becoming increasingly more worried as the minutes ticked by. Hopefully, once they arrived back at Wayne Manor, she would be able to relax. "Not long now."

#

Her eyes fell back on him when she heard him move. He turned on the heat thinking that would help her, but it wasn't so much that she was physically cold. It was a deep, fearful cold that she couldn't shake off. "But, Bruce," she started, "we haven't had history since I was eight years old. I mean, I _work _for you, but we haven't talked since we were kids. You didn't even tell me you were leaving when you did." Her lips pressed together in confusion and something of worry. She wasn't all Maroni could have found to use as leverage—for the love of God, he was _Bruce Wayne_. What precious things didn't he have? She was just a girl working for him whose family was once close with his. There was nothing between them anymore.

"Regardless, Maroni has targeted you. But like I said, Wayne Enterprises has powerful allies." She watched him move again, about to ask him what he meant by that when there was a dial tone, click, then an answering voice. One she was more familiar with than Bruce's.

"Yes, Master Bruce?" Alfred. The thought of the man made her smile. She talked to him three days ago.

"Put some tea on the stove, Alfred. We have a guest," Bruce replied.

"Right away, sir." The line cut off.

"You don't have to do that," Aurora added after the call ended.

"It's no problem. Alfred loves making tea. I don't drink it normally." Wayne Manor wasn't far; you could see it in the distance. Driving up the paved pathway between two rows of trees, the large cast iron gates began to swing open. Bruce drove the car around the large fountain in the center of the entryway, parking his car in front of the door. Alfred was waiting inside.

She took a deep breath, tying to relax and stop freaking out at him. He made a good point. There really was no worth in trying to figure out_why_ he was using her; Aurora just needed to accept that he was and move on—worry about more pressing issues. "Just don't do anything you're going to regret tomorrow, Bruce. Okay?" Her lips pressed into a line and her brows pulled together in worry. The lights from his driveway were hardly visible through the thickly falling snow, but she was so tired and full of wine, that even their dim glow hurt her eyes.

There was a man standing at the door waiting for them, and Aurora smiled when she realized it was Alfred. Bruce parked the car at the bottom of the stairs, walked around to help her out of the car, and escorted her into the warmth of his home. She looked over to Bruce, who was already walking away from her and Alfred when he spoke. "Alfred, could you see that Miss Rider finds her way to the kitchen? I'll be there shortly."

"Of course, sir. Right this way, Miss Rider," Alfred said, leading her toward the kitchen. Bruce turned the corner out of sight.

Where was he off too already? Alfred turned a corner, saying something like 'this way', but Aurora was more focused on watching Bruce leave and check his watch. By the time they were in the kitchen, she thawed slightly and adjusted to the heat of the manor. Alfred handed her a small cup of tea and sat next to her. "He hasn't even been back for a week, and he's already starting with the vanishing acts?"

"Well, you know him. He's quite the busy man." He explained. "It's good to have him back home, though." Alfred turned back to Aurora and smiled.

#

Bruce entered his study and walked to the center of the room where the grand piano was arranged. He touched three of the keys in an order that created an unfavorable melody. This caused a bookcase on the adjacent side of the room to slide open, revealing a small elevator big enough for just two people. He stepped in and the bookcase slid closed behind him, the elevator beginning to descend. By the time he reached the bottom, the Bat Cave was completely illuminated, and the large arrangement of wide-screened computer monitors began to light up, the symbol of Batman glowing blue in the center of each screen. Bruce stood still as a blue light shone down around him.

"Identifying. Bruce Wayne," a computerized voice called out from nowhere. The security measures were deactivated and Bruce walked to the supercomputer.

"Bring up files on Salvatore Maroni," he ordered the computer, and in an instant all of the screens were full of pictures and headlines regarding The Boss. He moved what he needed to a smaller device, which he then stored in his pocket. The evidence was piled high enough to reach the moon, but the police were too deep in Maroni's pockets for any action to happen. That was where he came in.

#

"You must be excited, Ms. Rider. The next CEO of Wayne Enterprises. It's quite the responsibility," Alfred said, clearly trying to keep Aurora occupied while Bruce went about his business. "But I trust that the company is in good hands. Master Bruce certainly gets...well...less than entertained when it comes to business."

"I think I'm excited, but the publicity won't be any fun. Seeing what they say about Bruce makes me wonder what they'll say about me." The thought of all the terrible things that would be said about her made her want to cringe. What would her parents think? Aurora sighed and held the cup of tea with both of her hands. It was soothing, both the scent and the heat. It burned her hands, but it made her feel better.

"Master Bruce just disregards the press. Today was the first time he's been seen in years and he answered only three of their questions." Alfred chuckled, turning away from Aurora once again.

"Where does he go?" she asked. "Where does he go when he disappears?" Bruce had been alone his entire life. How did he spend all that time?

Aurora looked over her shoulder in the direction Bruce departed. Her heart ached for the man, but at the same time, he seemed too satisfied with his life. Smug, even. She exhaled heavily and looked back to Alfred, taking her first sip of the tea. It warmed her entire body, but it didn't make her feel any better like it did only a few hours earlier_. He said he would be right back,_ she thought.

Alfred looked in the direction that Bruce went. "His study is off in that direction. I couldn't tell you what he does in there. I really only go in to straighten up occasionally." Alfred shrugged his shoulders and took a drink of the tea he poured for himself.

She smiled fondly at him—he really was a great man for all he'd been through and what he put up with. The heat of the tea began to set in, making her pull her hands away and look down at her bright red skin. It must've been a lot hotter than she felt. All the wine in her not only had her mind dull, but her senses, too. Aurora looked over her shoulder at the sound of approaching footsteps. Bruce. Her smile widened just a little and she looked back at her tea again. It suddenly didn't seem so appetizing. Her hands hurt, her stomach ached, her head was spinning, she was exhausted, and she was afraid. Aurora watched Alfred walk away and Bruce take his place.

"I apologize for my absence. I hope Alfred didn't tell you any jokes." Bruce smirked slightly as Alfred patted him on the back and went out the doors. "You'll be safe here," he explained. "You should relax."

"I am relaxed," she exhaled, pressing the bottoms of her hands against the cool stone counter. "Really."

"Your definition of relaxed is very different from mine." He took a sip of the tea Alfred left for him. "Do you want me to show you where you'll be sleeping tonight?" Bruce asked and took another sip. Aurora looked up at him from under her lashes.

"Only if you answer one question I have first." Her hands still pressed against the counter. She sat up straight and looked right into his eyes. Part of her regretted locking gazes with him because of the confidence he exuded that overpowered her, but she thought it would make her seem a little more in control of herself. He seemed almost expectant of all her questions tonight—annoyingly so.

"Anything," Bruce replied.

"Tell me where you go. For twelve years, you kept yourself holed up in this place. It's big, but not big enough that you could be here all your life and find some way to entertain yourself. You'd go stir crazy." She pushed off the counter, hands now in her lap, pressing against the material of her dress so the redness wouldn't be visible to him. "You can lie to everyone else, Bruce, but you can't lie to me." Her brows raised slightly and she waited for his answer. Hopefully, he wouldn't lie—hopefully, he would just tell her what was going on so she could go to bed and forget about the day. All the years he was gone, she thought his return would be an amazing day.

She was wrong.

"Alright. I'll tell you." Aurora's eyes flicked to his cup as he set it down, then her eyes went back to him. "Do you remember when I said Wayne Enterprises has powerful allies? Well, it's more like ally." A look of confusion washed over her and she nodded at his question; of course she remembered him saying that. It was no more than an hour ago. But an ally? An ally in what? "Only a select few people know this, but our company has been funding the Batman. I know how to contact him. That's why I've been so mysterious. I'm very particular about who knows this information," Bruce explained. "Obviously, I have to trust you to keep this to yourself now that you know." His expression was stern, and he kept eye contact with Aurora.

The intoxicating, inviting look in his eyes made her breath catch. Did he do that deliberately, or was he naturally that charming? Struggling to keep her sense of control, she didn't give into his gaze. She just tightened her hands around the teacup and tried not to think about the burn. It was becoming harder and harder to keep focused.

"What? I... Why would he trust you?" Aurora scoffed. "Why would _you_ trust _him_? He's not even real. He was a rumor. And even if he was real, he hasn't shown his face around here in years. He's letting the city go to Hell. I guess you were a little preoccupied in the Alps though, weren't you?" There was the power she was searching for. After a pause, she relaxed just slightly, embarrassed that she was acting so poorly as his guest, and said, "Of course you can trust me, Bruce. Who else am I going to tell?"

He was quiet. She slid off the chair and turned away from him, looking at the clock to distract herself. It was almost eleven. There wasn't a reason why she was so mad at him. Well, there were plenty of reasons; she was drunk, drugged, exhausted, overwhelmed, terrified and confused. She was on overdrive, and if she wasn't so afraid of it, she would have wanted to be alone. "Where should I sleep?" Aurora asked, too caught up in herself and her embarrassment to apologize.

"Alfred?" Bruce called, the man appearing in an instant. "Show Miss Rider where she'll be staying tonight, please."

_I meant for _you_ to show me_, she thought, following Alfred anyway. Her dress was becoming restricting and her heels made her feet ache. Bruce never really answered her question, which only annoyed her more. He was like a bad politician, avoiding every question and making up something that almost seemed like an actual answer. Almost. He walked casually away to wherever it was he liked to go and left her with Alfred.

She followed him up the stairs, down a hall and past the threshold of a grand room. Had she been any other person in Gotham, the room would have been strikingly grandiose to her, but it was about the same as her own bedroom, just a little nicer. It made her wonder what _his_bedroom looked like. "Thank you, Alfred," she dismissed him, and then sat at the end of the bed.

Nerves riddled her entire body, primarily her chest, stomach and head. Aurora felt sick, but she was not about to throw up alcohol in Bruce's house. Instead, she held her head in her hands until the nausea went away, then began to slip off her shoes. "God..." she muttered, letting them fall to the floor. Alfred gone and Bruce missing, she decided to go raid his room for clothes even though she knew it was severely inappropriate. She didn't take time to turn on the light and look around, rather found the massive closet where he kept all his clothes and pulled a gray t-shirt off its hanger. She ended up finding a nearby pair of sweatpants, surprisingly enough, and took them. Even Bruce Wayne had to hit the gym every once in a while.

Aurora changed in his room, carrying her dress over her arm back to the guest room. Her black bra and underwear were completely covered by the shirt and pants, which were big and comfortable. The big, wooden door closed behind her with a loud click. She pulled back the giant comforter and sheet, curled up like a ball under them, and stared into the thick curtain of darkness surrounding her. Her eyes began to burn and her throat restricted, and then she just started crying, the weight of the evening harsh and crushing. Nothing good came of the day she had long hoped for, but what was she expecting from Gotham?


	4. Chapter Four

She kept crying until sleep took her; it seemed to be the only way she could let out all her stress. And there was quite a bit of it. It wasn't long before she heard a gentle whir, which she assumed to be nothing more than the heat kicking in or Bruce returning from doing whatever it was he left to do. She thought about getting up, but by the time she decided what she would even say to him, she fell back asleep. It was when she heard another noise that she groaned and sat up. Her head pounded, stomach kicked with pain, and her eyes burned with dried tears. Down her cheeks, along with the pillow she favored lying on were tear stains. Aurora rubbed her eyes and looked toward the door, where the noise came from. Was it Bruce? Alfred?

Out of nowhere, the door crumpled and hit the ground with a loud boom that pierced the night's silence. The girl jumped and gripped the comforter tightly, pulling it up over herself as if it could offer her some sort of protection. She stared at the terrifying silhouette of the figure before her. First, everything with Maroni and Bruce. Now this guy? The tear stains on her face, burns on her hand, and hangover were numb compared to how frigid she had become. Her entire body froze like she was submerged in the river Maroni threatened to throw her in. No words came to her mind—just more terror. Where was Bruce?

#

The exterior of the building had a large electric sign that read: Maroni's Ristorante Italiano. It seemed like a legitimate operation from an outside view, but really, it was nothing but a front for organized crime.

"Obviously, our leverage didn't work with Mr. Wayne. I was expecting his call an hour ago. I know what you can do. I want him alive, but don't be afraid to scare him a bit," a man seated behind a desk said in a thick Italian accent. Maroni. From the darkness across the room, a man clad in black body armor with orange accents stepped out. He was wearing a mask, half orange and half black, only one of his eyes visible.

"Do you have a photo of the target?" the man asked. His voice was loud and commanding, despite being behind a mask. Maroni slid a picture of Bruce and Aurora from earlier that day across the desk. "Who's the woman?"

"A liability," the Italian man said, chuckling slightly. "Wayne had a date with her tonight." The armor clad man turned away from the desk and began heading for the door. "Oh, and Deathstroke," the man turned back to face Maroni. "If you run into her, you have my permission to silence her. Consider it a bonus." Deathstroke nodded and quickly left. His destination: Wayne Manor.

His motorcycle sped through traffic, weaving in and around traffic in a blur. Most people would say that it was insane to ride a motorcycle in this weather, but for Slade Wilson, it was easy enough.

He was a metahuman, the result of several "failed" military experiments code named: Deathstroke. He was strong, fast, cunning, and above all, precise. He was a master contract killer, his body count rising exponentially as time progressed. His new target, Bruce Wayne, would be a challenge. Some said that Wayne Manor was more armed than Fort Knox in terms of security, but he was armed, locked, and loaded. Wayne didn't stand a chance.

When he arrived at the mansion, the front gate was locked. Of _course _the front gate was locked. Deathstroke stalked the perimeter of the cast iron fence surrounding Wayne Manor, looking for a vantage point that he could hook with his grapple gun. He narrowed his eye, looking toward a stone gargoyle on the rooftop. He pulled the grapple from his weapon clad belt and fired it at the stone carving. It hooked with ease and he smirked with satisfaction beneath his mask as his grapple propelled him up to the roof of the manor.

Deathstroke heard a small electronic whirring and the sound of several dozen locks clicking all at once. Simple security, nothing he couldn't handle. He reached to his belt and pulled out a small military grade weapon disruptor that he purchased from Oswald Cobblepot, the best arms dealer in Gotham. He pointed the disruptor at one of the many large windows and pulled the trigger. The device whirred and the lock of the window clicked. He smirked again, putting the disruptor back onto his belt. He hooked a line to the roof of the manor and began to repel down to the level of the window. Once he made it to the latch, he clicked it open and lowered himself inside. Easy enough.

He watched from behind a corner as the man who must have been Wayne's butler reached up to lock the window he entered through. He looked around, clearly confused, then turned to leave. The butler was probably alerted while monitoring the "Fort Knox grade" security. _An old man? He wasn't part of the briefing. That bastard Maroni_, he thought to himself.

The second he stepped around the corner, Deathstroke reached around his throat and put him into a choke hold, keeping him in it long enough for him to go unconscious. Once he was limp, Deathstroke allowed the body to drop to the floor.

He exited the room and turned to the left. He must've been on the second floor because he could see the foyer under the balcony he was on. He reached for a door handle and jiggled it. _Locked. This must be Wayne's room_. He smirked and took a step back, and then booted the door off its hinges. A siren began wailing in the background, but it was just an alarm. Slade would be gone before the cops arrived.

But it wasn't Wayne sitting in the bed. Instead, terrified (as she should have been), it was his bonus. She had yet to understand the world of trouble she was in. "Where's Wayne!?" Deathstroke shouted at her, taking several steps in her direction. He left the lights off and drew one of his swords from his back. As he got closer to the woman, he held the sword up, the tip only inches from her throat. "Give me an answer and I'll consider letting you live," he promised, but either way, she wasn't leaving alive.

#

Donning the suit was exhilarating. It felt good to be back. He pressed a button located on his right gauntlet and a row of lights began illuminating the rest of the cave. The armory, the vehicle bay, and the flight platform. He connected his utility belt around his waist, and it locked in with an electronic click. He walked pressed another button on his gauntlet and the Batwing started, the engine roaring and exhaust shooting out the back end. The sound must've woken the bats in the cave, because a loud chirping could be heard in the background.

"Sir!" Alfred's voice called out over the sound of the Batwing. "What shall I do about Miss Rider!?"

"Just keep an eye on her. Activate the security countermeasures!" Bruce shouted back, and the Batwing began to hover off the ground. He walked beneath it, and a quick boarding platform dropped from the underbelly. He quickly stepped onto it and the platform shot back up into the Batwing, putting Bruce right in the driver's seat. He took the controls and rotated the Batwing toward the exit, pushing the throttle forward and shooting out of the cave.

"I shall notify you in the event of a break in, sir," Alfred's voice called over the radio.

"You do that." Bruce cut the line as the Batwing maneuvered through the caverns of the Bat Cave, shooting him from the manor. He pushed into full throttle and began heading toward the Bowery, where Maroni's restaurant and headquarters were located.

He was jettisoned from the Batwing at an incredible speed. He dive bombed straight to the ground, allowing his cape to parachute out to give him a softer landing. He landed in front of two of Maroni's armed guards who leaped back in terror and dropped their guns. Batman lunged forward and disposed of them silently. His training was without flaw. He was standing just outside the front door to Maroni's restaurant. He pulled a small EMP emitter from his belt and tossed it at the window of the restaurant that faced the street. It beeped a few times and all of the interior lights died instantly. Suddenly, frantic shouting in Italian echoed from inside. _Time to make an entrance._

Just as Bruce was about to blow the door open, Alfred's voice called out in his ear.

"Master Bruce! There's someone inside. I believe he's gotten to Miss Rider." His voice was strained and breathless. Bruce's eyes widened and he touched a button on his gauntlet, calling the Batwing to him. He took one last look at the restaurant and then turned away, aiming his grapple to the sky and firing it to be towed back toward the manor. The gun began to retract, pulling him up and into the Batwing. _Hold on, Aurora_, he thought to himself in worry.

#

She was silent except for her breathing, which was uneven. The entire house felt unnervingly quiet even though an alarm just started to blare. Aurora saw something through the dark room—something that glinted when it caught the light from the hall. The thing she assumed was a sword stopped couple inches from her neck, but she could still feel its sharp edge and cold metal. Aurora pulled the blanket up higher, trying not to be too fearfully shaky. She winced at his harsh voice and felt tears pricking her eyes despite her willing them not to. "I don't know where he is," she whispered in a voice as shaky as the rest of her.

This stranger didn't like her answer.

The tip of the sword made contact with her throat and she gasped. "He left, I swear!" she shouted. "I don't know where he went!" Tears were falling from her eyes, but she kept her actual crying silent. _This is happening_, she thought, _and I can't change it._ Trying to make her voice stern, she searched for the man's face with a solid look. "Don't think for a second that even if I did know, I would tell you. Should I really believe that you're going to let me live through tonight? Bruce won't let you win." Her eyes narrowed and jaw clenched, a completely opposite expression of how she really felt.

"Wrong answer!" She couldn't see it coming, so when the man's fist connected with her face, Aurora screamed and had no way to protect herself. She was forced off the bed and onto the floor, landing harshly and striking her head against it. Everything from that point on was fuzzy and dark spots plagued her memory. She blinked hard, trying to clarify everything around her, but it was all in vain. Shattering sounded from a window and a rain of glistening glass and snow poured in. It slipped across her skin, piercing and cutting it, but she hardly felt it. Blinking again, she tried to make out a new figure in the room. One in all black with a cape._ Batman_, she realized. Aurora pushed herself away from the battle happening before her, using her feet to move back because she couldn't stand up. The black room was spinning, blurred together by specks of white and brushes of red. Muffled strings of words and loud echoes of cracking and booming as Batman and the intruder fought was all she could hear.

She saw what she thought was her final sight; a gun pointed directly at her. She gasped and looked away, hiding her face in her shoulder and pushing herself away with the heels of her feet again until she hit a wall, trapping herself. Aurora surprised herself by wishing Bruce was with her in that moment. He would have known what to do.

Bang! The gunshot shook the walls and floor, and the cold snow landed on her cuts and sent icy pain through her. Everything was a swirl of colors singing her to sleep. But nothing hit her. Aurora blinked, looking up to find Batman lying before her, clutching his side. The other man heard what must have been sirens, and dashed away.

She sat there in shock for a long time. Everything felt surreal and her body screamed in pain. It was so cold. She swallowed thickly and leaned forward over Batman. "You're him," she breathed. "You're real." Aurora couldn't control her body, and just stared at him. Her body was foreign to her, and her mind was blank. "Are you okay?" she finally spoke up, saying the words only because they seemed necessary, with wide eyes and a quiet voice. The tear stains on her cheeks were covered with new ones, but she couldn't tell she was crying. She couldn't tell she was bleeding all over, either. Her hands itched to remove his mask so she could make sure his head was okay, but she knew that was not good idea. Instead, she let her hands travel to the area he was holding, using his body as a guide in the darkness.

She could hear footsteps and clamoring outside and worried it was more people there to hurt her, but she realized it was only the police. In Gotham, though, they could be just as dangerous. "What...what should I do?" She felt like she was talking to Bruce all over again—asking for some sort of guidance or help. Aurora was in this far deeper than she thought.

Batman stood, still clutching his side. "Come with me," he ordered, clearly out of breath. "Hurry." He extended his hand to her.

Her entire body was shaking and she was silent. Being in shock will do that to you. The pain in her arm and head was definitely there, but she was too dazed to focus on one specific thing. She took Batman's hand and let him pull her through Bruce's home. Aurora stumbled down the stairs, holding the railing for support. They ended up in the foyer, where Alfred was standing guard over the door.

"Look after her," Batman told him. "The police will be here soon. She's bleeding and she was struck in the head." Aurora was staring at him, unable to take in anything he was saying. She glanced quickly from him to Alfred, and by the time she looked back, Batman was gone. Her chest sank and her brows pulled together in confusion. Left with Alfred, she wished she could have thanked Batman or made sure he was okay. She felt like Bruce the day she left him.

"Come, Miss Rider," Alfred said, pulling her gently away from the doors and into the kitchen, where he dug around in a cupboard until he pulled out a bag of medical supplies. He flipped around her arm, inspecting the major cuts on her left arm from the glass window exploding next to her. "Not too bad. I can stop the bleeding. You should be fine." His words offered little comfort. There was a stinging pain in her arm where Alfred was tending to the more prominent of the cuts; all the little ones were thin and hardly bled. Aurora kept zoning out and her eyes kept trying to close, but she fought the dizziness and fatigue with what little she had left in her.

When Bruce came upstairs, sweaty and damaged, she didn't connect the pieces of the puzzle—_couldn't_. "I'll take care of this," he said in a low voice, barely audible to her. "Can you handle the police?" Alfred nodded in response and turned away, touching Aurora gently on her shoulder before taking his leave.

Bruce sat next to her, and she just stared at him. "Are you alright, Aurora?" Did she _look _alright to him?

"Where were _you_?" she inquired. Judging by the massive purple bruise on his side, someone clearly got to him before the police showed up. He was lucky it wasn't the same guy that got to her.

#

"I'm a heavy sleeper," he told her, too tired to think of a better excuse. Alfred was outside in the foyer. He could hear him conversing with Harvey Bullock, one of the detectives for the GCPD. Bruce took over Alfred's job and began to wrap up Aurora's wound. He made it tight enough to stop the bleeding, but not so tight that it would cause her more pain.

"I'm sorry I was gone for so long, Aurora," Bruce said, not making eye contact with her. "I put you in danger by bringing you here tonight. They're after me. You were just a messenger. I can take you home if you'd like." Bruce had no idea that Maroni hired a contract killer to come after him, and a skilled one at that. It had been a long time since Bruce fought someone with as much prowess as him, whoever he was.

He felt pain shoot through his side. He brought his hand to his ribs and turned away from her, attempting to conceal the pain from Aurora._Damn_, he thought. The large bruise that spread across his abdomen must' have been clearly visible to Aurora, but she was in too much of a daze to make any connections.

#

Deathstroke hopped onto his motorcycle, and the police disregarded him completely as he flew past them; Maroni must have contacted them about what would be happening tonight and paid them off. Maroni wouldn't be pleased, but Deathstroke had dealt with disappointed customers before, and he definitely wasn't expecting to run into Batman on this mission. He made his escape with ease, heading back to his field headquarters in the center of Park Row.

When he got there, Deathstroke left his motorcycle outside of Maroni's restaurant. All the lights were off on the inside. He looked to the window where Batman placed the EMP device. Without looking, he pulled his pistol from the holster and shot the device, causing it to fall to the ground in pieces. Almost instantly, all the lights in the building came back on. Deathstroke walked through the front door to find Maroni sitting at a table, surrounded by armed guards.

"I couldn't find Wayne. But you'll be interested in knowing the Bat was there," Deathstroke explained. Maroni stood from the table, jamming his finger at Deathstroke.

"What do you mean you couldn't find Wayne?! What did I pay you-" Deathstroke held his sword only inches from the Italian's throat. He could see him sweating.

"The Bat wasn't part of our deal. Either you pay me extra, or I walk," he said, not wavering. The armed guards had their weapons trained on Deathstroke. Maroni began chuckling.

"Very well. I'll offer you double payment for Wayne, but you'll have to kill the Bat as well." Deathstroke was out the door of the restaurant before Maroni finished his sentence.

#

Each time Bruce shifted his hand, she winced. Her wounds were throbbing under the bandages Alfred put on, but the ones Bruce was still working on hadn't gotten to that point yet. "Clearly," she mumbled in response to his 'heavy sleeper' comment, her vision slowly beginning to return to normal. "Maroni wasn't kidding, was he? He's really going to kill me." The weight of that didn't set in until she was sitting there with Bruce, dizzy and tired and bleeding. "I don't think I'm any safer at home than I am here. Not with whoever that was still out there. So I don't think you should take me home." Aurora watched him wince and try to cover it. "Are you...?" _Are you okay? _was what she wanted to ask, but the words didn't come. She slid off the chair and took the ice pack that Alfred left sitting on the counter and held it against the part of her head that hurt the most. Her arm didn't agree with moving, nor did her head or the rest of her body, but she pushed through the pain and dizziness. Looking down at her arm, she noticed that it was smeared with blood, along with the clothes she borrowed from Bruce. He released the arm he was working on and started on her left foot, setting it on his knee, spreading a cream across the bottom that numbed it. She could feel the pressure as he started pulling out the glass with tweezers, and tried to keep herself strong and not react to it, but it was easier said than done. He finished her left foot quickly, then switched to start the right, skillfully pulling out the bigger pieces first.

Now that her body was coming down from the high of action and her mind was clearing, she realized Bruce's abdomen was blue and purple right in the area she thought that Batman's would have been. The girl stared at it, slowly retracting her leg from him and taking a step back. "Bruce, I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to be completely honest with me." How stupid did he think she was? Aurora paused to keep herself together, and in a low voice asked, "Where were you?"

"I told you where I was, Aurora."

"No. You told me what you've been telling everyone else."

"At least let me finish fixing you first."

"I just almost _died_ for you. You told me no one could get in here. Being honest to me is the least you could do. The bleeding can wait." He wasn't in the Alps. It wasn't a question anymore. She shook her head and took a deep breath, shoving the pain in her feet out of her head. "How'd you get that bruise? And _don't _say skiing."

He took a deep breath, then looked at her. No, he didn't look at her. He _stared_ into her without a single emotion on his face. Nothing. Seconds ticked by like minutes before he spoke again, not moving. "I think it's in your best interest that you know why this is happening. Now that Maroni has targeted you, he won't be stopping." He paused. "I need you to listen very carefully," Bruce said, looking directly in her eyes. "I was in the Alps, but I wasn't on a ski trip." She was in a fragile state, hit with so much information at once, and he was acting like she should be taking everything lightly. "Come with me. I can show you." He offered her his hand.

"No," she said in a low voice. How could she trust him anymore? All this time, he lied to her. And he still wouldn't tell her what it was. Aurora shook her head, bent on staying where she stood and not listening to a word he said.

But then he smiled at her. Conflicted and tired, she let him take her hand and lead her to wherever it was he planned.

Each step she took was more painful than the next, the little pieces of glass that hadn't been tended to yet digging deeper and deeper into her feet. Her eyes were watery, but she swallowed the threat of crying. _Not in front of Bruce_, she told herself_._ By the time they stopped in his study, he had to wrap his arm around her to help her stay steady. They stood over the piano together, and he played three awkward notes. The bookcase across from them slid open once more, revealing the elevator on the inside. He urged her forward silently.

Once they were in the dark elevator, he reached behind them and pulled a lever, which caused the bookcase to slide shut, and the elevator sealed itself. Bruce's hand slid from her waist to her arm, still offering her support but not quite so much. A monotone female voice started, "Identifying. Bruce Wayne. Aurora Rider." Aurora looked around, confused.

"It's a facial recognition program. It can identify anyone in its database." Even though he explained it to her, it didn't make her feel any more comfortable, and she stayed silent.

The elevator groaned into motion. The suddenness scared her, causing her arm to pull back in surprise. Bruce's hand grabbed hers and he placed it between his palms. "It's okay," he promised.

"What are you? Some kind of spy or something?"

"Not quite."

The elevator opened in only a few more seconds. Bruce pulled her out by her hands into a pitch black room. Whirring and beeping could be heard, but there was no flash of a power button or glare of a screen. Then he called out for the lights to turn on, and they did, revealing a vast...cave?


	5. Chapter Five

p class="NoSpacing1"  
style="text-indent:.5in;line-height:200%"span style="font-size:12.0pt;line-height:200%;font-family:Times New Roman""No,"  
she whispered, "no you're not." It made perfect sense, and that was what scared her. She knew where she was, the glowing bat symbol told her that. But it wouldn't sink in that she was actually there. "I don't understand. I-" /span/p 


	6. Chapter Six

Aurora nodded, looking at him, but not really _looking_. Her eyes were absent, as if somehow her gaze was lost through the room's darkness. She turned away from him and was asleep almost immediately. Bruce laid down opposite her, sure to keep his distance. He stared up at the ceiling, knowing sleep would once again elude him, as it often did. He thought about how the night may have gone if he hadn't brought Aurora home with him. Sure, the manor still would have been broken into, but Aurora would be safe, and she wouldn't know who he really was. Maroni would be in police custody, awaiting prosecution. Now, that had to wait. Aurora suddenly sat up and took a deep breath. He glanced over at her with his eyes, but didn't react. She wouldn't have wanted to talk to him; she was too upset and stressed from the day. So, he just watched her calm herself down, get comfortable again, and then quickly fall back asleep.

His mind drifted to the man he fought earlier, and it stayed there for a long time. He never encountered anyone with such prowess as him. The way he fought was familiar; he didn't waver or tire, almost as if he had an unlimited amount of stamina. Bruce would have to look into it further, but it could wait until tomorrow. He thought about that for a long time.

He snaked his left hand behind the headboard of the bed, where a few batarangs were hidden for emergencies. He closed his eyes as his hand wrapped around one of them, then opened them again and looked out the window parallel to the bed at a lone spotlight beaming up from the city, casting a shadow against the clouds. Slowly, as not to stir Aurora, he rose from the bed and walked over to the window, looking up at the bat symbol cast against the dark sky. He looked at it for a long time, then looked down at his feet, and then to Aurora. She could never understand why he was doing what he did. Why he was Batman. She hadn't suffered like he did. She hadn't endured the same pain he had—the pain he was still enduring. And he would make sure she never had to. He made a promise.

From there, his eyes shifted to the alarm clock on the nightstand near the bed. It was four in the morning, which meant dawn was just around the corner He reached for the curtains and pulled them across the window, keeping the future sunlight from flooding in. Looking at Aurora again, he knew she was safe. He wouldn't fail to keep her that way again. He turned for the door and headed in the direction of his study.

#

Even as exhausted as she was, Aurora was a light sleeper. She felt the bed shift, then sink more toward her side, and it woke her up. Her eyes took a minute to adjust to the darkness, and she soon realized that Bruce was by the window. She kept quiet to see what he would do. It was clear he was looking at something, but it wasn't something near, rather far off in the city. Aurora took a breath, closing her eyes again when he pulled the drapes together, only opening them again when she heard him walking out of the room.

She knew where he was going; leaving to be Batman one more time before the sun peeked over Gotham. It took her a long time to decide that she was going after him before she took action. Obviously, she knew she shouldn't be getting in his way, playing the role of damsel in distress that always annoyed her, but she needed some sense of closure before he left her. It could have been the last time he did, and though she declared there was nothing between them, not even a friendship, part of her knew that she had to make sure he was okay.

Her hair wasn't really messy, because she slept so heavily, she didn't move much, and her bandage was red from blood, along with Bruce's shirt and pants that were stuck to her at some parts because the blood on them dried, and they were slouchy from sleep. And if she would have noticed the red on them, she would have felt bad for ruining his expensive sheets.

"Bruce?" Aurora called in a soft, groggy voice, coming around the corner. No answer.

Aurora sighed and leaned against the wall of the hall, watching him go into his study. The three notes played softly from the room, telling her where he was going. After a moment's hesitation, she pushed off the wall and went the same route he took. Knowing the notes from her myriad of wasted piano lessons from her mother, she pressed the three in the same order Bruce did, and waited until the bookcase moved aside to reveal the elevator. She walked confidently toward it, stepped inside, and hoped it wouldn't set off some sort of alarm because Bruce wasn't with her. Thankfully, it didn't. The machine recognized her as someone it could trust, and let the door slide shut, then began its depart to the cave. Once she was there, the door parted out of her way, and she stepped out silently.

She stopped behind a tall, metal shelf, and crouched behind it to watch him. "Freeze right there." Bruce ordered, and for a second, she thought he caught her, but he only got closer to the screen he was in front of. "Run an analysis from the National Criminal Database." He sat back down and rubbed his eyes. Squinting, she realized what he was looking at so closely. It was _her _in bed. What was he trying to see? She leaned forward a little more and faltered, grabbing the metallic shelf to steady herself. It didn't really make a noise—just a soft thud that he probably couldn't hear. Aurora hid herself completely in case he looked back, terrified that she gave herself up.

"The man who attacked you tonight is Slade Wilson, one of the most lethal killers in the world. He was probably hired to come after me, but decided to use you as bait," Bruce said, not taking his eyes off the screen. "You can come out, Aurora."

She exhaled all the tension of trying to stay hidden and stepped out, keeping her eyes trained on him as she did. _Slade Wilson? What a horrible name_, she thought. Her jaw clenched at the sight of the masked man on the screen by cause of no particular emotion.

"I'm lucky the serial number is still intact. It'll allow me to find out where he acquired his weapons. Handguns of this caliber are illegal to have in the U.S., so not only will I be able to track down Slade, but I can also take down his supplier," Bruce explained. He set the bullet fragment down near the massive computer. Shamefully, Aurora watched him stand and pick up all the pieces of his armor. She walked over and inspected the bullet herself. This was the one meant to kill her; this was the one that hurt Bruce.

"You said you would give me answers in the morning," Aurora reminded, eyes staying on the bullet. "It's morning." Satisfied with the bullet much sooner than she thought she would be, she put it back where it was. Probably because was afraid she would throw it across the room. The thought of the bloody bandages crossed her mind and made her look down at herself to discover just how red the bandages became while she was sleeping.

"And I will answer all of your questions, Aurora," Bruce promised, pointing to the chair in front of the giant computer he must have wanted her to sit in, then walking over to an area of the cave with a table more metal shelves. Aurora didn't plan to move, so she just watched him grab a small box and walk back to her. He led her to the chair, sat her down, and knelt beside her, beginning to uncoil the bloody gauze on her left arm. "None of these cuts are too deep. That's pretty lucky considering where they are on your body." She didn't feel she needed him to go through all the trouble he was, but it made her feel at least a little better. Despite the good condition of the injuries, they still hurt every time he touched them or adjusted the gauze. The disinfectant he rubbed on her arms and feet stung at first, then warmed and melted the pain away. Her eyes were on his hands the entire time, watching every move they made. When he finished fixing every single hurt part of her skin, her eyes shifted back to his face.

"Ask away," he told her.

For the first time, Aurora actually thought about what it was that she _actually wanted_ to know. Well, "Are you really Bruce Wayne?" seemed like a good enough start, but she held her tongue and tried to be serious. Questions poured through her mind. Easy to answer questions, like, "Where did you learn how to do everything?" were met with the unanswerable, like, "Why? _Why _do you do it?" She took a breath, locked eyes with him, and kept herself solid

"What were you doing in the Alps for six years?" was her first question. Not too tough. Yet.

"Well, I wasn't on a ski trip," he started. She watched him walk over to a white piece of material on the floor, which ended up being his shirt. On his way back, he pulled the chair a few feet from her closer and sat in it. "Six years ago, I was injured while I was doing an investigation on the officer of the SWAT team. I couldn't go to any doctors here with all of my injuries, so I went to Switzerland to go to a doctor who could operate on the down-low. I was gone as long as I was because of the rehabilitation," he explained, keeping their eyes locked. "I just used the guise of an extended ski trip. What else?"

She blinked at the bluntness of his answer. _Six _years_ of rehabilitation? _"Why did you need the surgery? What happened?" she asked, following up her thoughts. "What happened to you that you had to go to another _country_ for it?" Her eyes didn't leave his. Trapped under his gaze, she had to take a few breaths to keep her mind on track. Aurora could remember something bad happening to Batman—something terrible—but she couldn't remember what. As soon as Batman left, she lost faith and trust in him. Therefore, in Bruce. And she stopped caring about where he was or what he was doing. His eyes were dark and full of secrets that she wasn't sure she wanted in on.

"Well, I'm sure you understand that a man full of bullet holes can't go to a hospital without someone asking questions. This doctor in the Alps is an old friend, and she owed me a favor," Bruce explained. "I understand your confusion, but if I were to waltz into a hospital the same night that Batman got the same injuries... It's just a little suspicious, don't you think?" he asked her. Listening to him talk, it all made perfect sense, and she felt silly because she didn't realize right away how dumb it would have been of him to walk right into the hospital. But how did he get all the way to the other country and _not_ die? That was fantastic. _He_ was fantastic.

As soon as he finished talking, she leaned back in the chair he had her sit in and pulled her knees up to her chest. "Don't you think it was just a little odd that Bruce Wayne decided to go skiing the same night that Batman was shot down?" Aurora shot back. The question wasn't _completely_ sarcastic; she had some genuine curiosity underlying in there somewhere.

"Not if you announce it to the press a week later. Just because I was gone doesn't mean people notice," Bruce explained. "Not right away," he added.

"_I_ noticed," she stated, and they exchanged a sad, uncomfortable look. Her eyes moved to the big bruise on his abdomen and lingered there for a long moment before finally getting herself to focus on his face and what he was saying.

"Don't worry about this. I've had much worse," he explained. "I know you probably think I'm crazy for doing this, but it isn't about thrill seeking. I made a promise."

"It makes absolutely no sense to me why you would do this. It makes no sense to me why you risk your life and leave behind the people you love, then act like it's no big deal." She paused, shook her head, and stood. It gave her a slight head rush, but she blinked hard and it went away. "A promise to who, Bruce?" To the city? To Alfred? To himself? Either way, it wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth his life.

"It's a promise to my parents," he said sternly, standing from his seat so he could be a little over eye level with her. "The night that they died, as I sat on my knees in front of their lifeless bodies, I made a promise that I would create a world where little boy would lose his parents to some punk with a gun."

She held her breath when he said it, and her heart broke. Of course it was his parents. Aurora castigated herself mentally for being so oblivious and naïve. She reached out to him and moved his face with her fingertips to look at her, just as soft as when her voice said, "And you think this is what they wanted for you?" Gentle, concerned, and cautious, was all she could be for him. More than those, though, he needed her honesty. "Bruce, I'm all for you going out there and doing what you need to do. I think it's reckless and dangerous, but it's what you feel you _need_ to do. I just…" There were no words, so she just let her sentence end there. Hand still in place on his face, she struggled to find his gaze that repelled her like a polar opposite.

"I know that they wanted a better Gotham," he started. "You know as well as I do that Batman is the only way to do that. Corruption has run rampant in this city for far too long, and a man like Bruce Wayne isn't the kind of person who should represent the people." They only stared at each other, and eventually, his dark gaze met hers. He lifted his hand over hers so they overlapped. At first, his contact made her gasp. She never really thought of Bruce like that, but she never really thought about Bruce in _any_ specific way. In all the years they were apart, she pushed him from her mind anytime he found his way in. Things never ended well when he was prominent in her life—he always disappeared or did something that wasn't like him that completely threw her off. Like confess he was Batman. And now that she knew that, things were different. Everything she knew about him became nothing more than possibility. Everything he ever said or did was false. That is, except for two things; who he was—Batman—and what he stood for. His hands were strong and rough, evidence of the battles he constantly went through. They were wise, too, as they smoothly slid from her hand on his cheek to the back of her neck. Her chest was tight and her cheeks became flushed with an emotion she didn't quite understand; one she never experienced with anyone else. His lips pressed softly against hers, and her heart skipped a beat. It took her a second to try to get used to how it felt to kiss him, but she found that it felt _right_. There was nothing to adjust to. Too soon, he pulled away. Aurora's eyes locked on his, unsure and definite all at once, and she exhaled one shaky breath. "Bruce?" she whispered. Was this his playboy mask? Was she a just a band aid for the pain she caused him to relive? Or was that a _real_ kiss? Aurora wasn't sure of anything anymore, but that ambiguity was welcomed. For a girl who liked to know the answer to everything, not knowing felt like a break.

"Yes?" he asked. Their lips were mercilessly mere centimeters away from each other. Aurora couldn't stand it. His grip on her tightened as he brought her in and kissed her again. She felt her eyes fall shut and gave into the kiss completely. It was a good feeling, being close to him. An _amazing _feeling. He slid his hands down the sides of her body and rested them on her hips, allowing him to eliminate any space between them. Above everything on her mind, she just wanted to be closer to him.

Despite all the fear and confusion and exhaustion brought on by the night, Aurora relaxed and let him take charge. Her chest became heavier with want the longer the kiss continued and, as if out of nowhere, they were engaged in a passionate embrace. An odd sound escaped her while they kissed; a mix between a whimper, sigh, and moan. At first, it embarrassed her, but his contact made her forget it even happened. Her free hand dragged lightly up his covered torso, carefully avoiding his wound, until it was entwined in his hair.

It was weird for her to think that he was the little boy she grew up with. He was the boy whose parents were killed before his very eyes. He was her employer and family friend. He was the _man_ who was going to save Gotham. And there he was, allotting himself someone for his worst enemies to target to get to him. She wasn't as worried about that as she thought she would be, though. Because he would protect her from them. No matter what it took. She kissed him harder.

Bruce lifted her into his arms so her legs wrapped around his waist. He broke the kiss for a moment and touched his forehead to hers, the only sounds that could be heard were the soft whirring of the equipment in the background, and the sound of their heavy breathing. He looked her in the eyes. "It's a little cold down here, don't you think?

The small smirk on her face could have passed for devious, just as it could have been shy. She nodded and tried to find the breath he took away during the kiss. It _was _cold, but she didn't feel it. Bruce was so warm, and there was a fire inside of her. He kissed her. _Bruce Wayne_ kissed _her_. Her smile widened just a little and she bit her lip, nodding in agreement with his question. Suddenly, he was heading for the elevator with her still wrapped around him. What if Alfred saw? What if there was someone from the press trying to get shots of the break in? She smiled wider. Who cared?

He put her on the bed in his grandiose bedroom, and she was childish enough to just stare up at him. What exactly was he planning now? Aurora's eyes desperately tried to pull away from his, but she was trapped. Of course she wanted to kiss him again, but she didn't know what was going to happen if she did. Would he treat her any differently tomorrow? Act different around her? The day was so full of chaos that she felt this was all just one great, big release. But this was also Bruce. And he wasn't like that. Was he? Who knows what Switzerland's women can do to a man?

In a burst of confidence, she reached up and pulled him down to her by the neck of his shirt. Each action was so out of character for both of them, it seemed right. Her forehead touched his after another long kiss, and her eyes stayed closed. "Why?" she asked vaguely.

"Why what?" he replied and dragged the tips of his fingers slowly up her unscathed right arm, leaving his forehead pressed against hers.

"Why me, Bruce?" Her eyes opened. "Why now?" All the time they could have been around each other. All the time they could have at least been friends. And he had to choose _now_. It was a genuine question that was tough to keep in the front of her mind. They were so close...

Aurora's eyes opened and lingered on his lips for a long time before flicking up to his eyes. They were much clearer now than they were earlier, and she took that as a good thing. He was relaxing, too. Something Aurora assumed he got to do very rarely.

"I've wanted to be closer to you since the day I returned in Gotham. When I was in Switzerland, I thought of you constantly. Every single day since the day your parents made you leave. When I came back from school, when I found out you worked for Wayne Enterprises, I wanted to be the one to tell you were promoted. I tried to meet with you, but then..." _You were shot_, she recalled. "You're one of the only reasons I wanted to come back to Gotham," Bruce continued. "You're worth saving." Their eyes locked. He kissed her again; deeply, passionately. He broke the kiss momentarily to sit up and pull his shirt back off. He tossed it aside and collapsed back down on top of her, kissing her once again, his hands moving slowly up her sides and pulling off her shirt.

At first, Aurora thought she was going crazy and hearing things in the hall, but Bruce kept her attention more than that could. Then he stopped, and she exhaled, frustrated and disappointed. What was he doing now? She suppressed a groan, sighed heavily, and sat up, watching him reach across to the nightstand and pull something out of the nightstand drawer. A radio. "What's wrong?" she asked, brows pulling together in worry. He wasn't going to leave, was he? Didn't he only go out at night? He was Bruce Wayne right now, not Batman. "Who is it?" Aurora sat up, eyes just a little wider when she heard the voice describe an armed robber at a bank—hear it describe the robber's mask. Slade Wilson. It was him. The one who broke in earlier. The one who hurt Bruce.

Even though every fiber of her body said to stand against it, she pressed her lips together to gather herself, then quietly said, "Go." She didn't want him to leave and put himself in front of that man again, but she knew he didn't feel he had a choice, and it would only make it harder on herself to try to keep him from going. "If that's what you need. Go."

"You don't have to try to be strong for me, Aurora. I know it's hard. But it's not what I need. It's what Gotham needs." Bruce slipped off the bed and went to his walk-in closet. He came back out with a folded shirt and a pair of pants. "I'm sure they'll still be too big, but they're better than what you have right now." He handed them to her, and then went back into the closet.

In the few minutes of Bruce's absence, Aurora redressed herself in his clothes and sat with her feet hanging about a foot from the ground because of his tall bed. Her head pounded from her hangover, and she regretted drinking as much wine as she did. Maybe she would have reacted differently. Her hand held her forehead, the rest of her body tired and achy. It was clear to her that he wasn't used to facing anyone as extreme as Deathstroke, judging by the weakness of his armor. She knew that if the GCPD hadn't shown up when they did, there was a good chance that the pair would be dead. She didn't want him to go—not now that there was something holding them together.

He arrived, telling her to follow him, and she did just that; they went out of the room and back to his study, where he played the three notes she was becoming accustomed to.

"Now, it's apparent that Sal Maroni hired Deathstroke to kill Bruce Wayne, but he wasn't expecting the return of Batman. I need you to bring some evidence straight to Harvey Dent, the District Attorney. Don't mention me or Batman. In fact, it'd be better if you didn't let him know your identity at all," he explained as they stepped into the elevator.

"How will I do that? They know who I am, Bruce. Who do you think got your company thrown at them when you left? Harvey and I have had our fair share of conversations." And they weren't always pleasant, but those stories were for another time.

"Lights," Bruce called when the elevator opened.

He went over to a small screen and punched something in, the lights dimming slightly. The computer said, "Automatic," which she assumed meant they were just going to stay on now. The cave felt colder than it did earlier. Aurora wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed her eyes tiredly at the harshness of the lights. Bruce walked to the supercomputer and pulled a flash drive out from a drawer, plugging it into the small device that was still in his pocket. "I'm uploading every piece of evidence I've gathered on Salvatore Maroni to a flash drive," he walked to a touch screen and typed in a code, a door holding his armor sliding open in response. He quickly slipped into each piece. "I'm going to get Slade to talk tonight. One way or another." He walked back to the device he left by the computer, pulled out the USB and handed it to Aurora. "All you have to do is give this to Harvey Dent. You can trust him with. Take my car."

She took the flash drive and exhaled. "Be careful. I don't know how I would explain the death of Bruce Wayne and Batman." She smiled a little. It was weird to see him how he was in that moment; his armor covered every piece of him, but he wasn't wearing the mask, so the face of Bruce Wayne was showing and out of place on the body of Batman. Aurora reached for it and slipped it over his head. "There," she stated softly.

"I will come back. Tonight, we finish this," he promised. "Tonight, Maroni goes behind bars."

Aurora watched him as he walked to a massive, flying machine. She wished he could have stayed, but he wasn't hers—he was Gotham's. He was Batman. She put her forearm over her head and squinted her eyes against the wind that the engine started. Her hair blew around her head in a mess, whipping her arm and the exposed parts of her face and neck. She watched as it rose and jetted out of the cave, leaving an uncomfortable silence in its wake.


	7. Chapter Seven

p class="p0" style="text-indent:  
36.0000pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; line-height:  
200%;"span style="mso-spacerun: 'yes'; font-size:  
12.0000pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman';"Now that he was gone, she gripped the flash drive with determination, grabbed the small tablet it was plugged into, and turned to go back to the elevator. If she was going to give Harvey Dent the evidence, she wasn't going to hide and try to explain things in a letter. No, she would meet with him face to face and claim a friend gave it to her, not who exactly. But she would have to change first; she couldn't go in wearing Bruce's clothes and not expect Harvey to put the pieces together. Since she didn't have a car and felt uncomfortable using one of Bruce's, Aurora called for a taxi to pick her up and take her home. The price she was told was thirty-five dollars, which was ridiculous for a ten minute drive, but she agreed, thanked the man, and hung up./spanspan style="mso-spacerun: 'yes'; font-size: 12.0000pt; font-family:  
'Times New Roman';"br /spanspan style="mso-spacerun: 'yes'; font-size: 12.0000pt; font-family:  
'Times New Roman';"The snow was coming down much harder than it was when she and Bruce were driving back from dinner. Looking back, it felt like that happened days ago. Work, Maroni, dinner, Deathstroke, Batman... So much happened in a day. In all the time it took her to recap what they went through, both the good things and the bad, the taxi driver had arrived and gotten her home. She gave him two twenties to pay and let him keep the change, even though the gratuity was included in the thirty-five. Aurora hurried inside, kicked off her high heels that looked absolutely ridiculous with her baggy clothes, and held her feet until they thawed from their icy state. From there, she went upstairs to her massive walk-in closet and pulled out something more appropriate for her quickly approaching meeting with Harvey Dent. She pulled out her things and slipped them all on; black leather gloves, black pants and shoes, and a white shirt concealed by a red pea coat. She tamed her hair quickly with a brush, wiped any darkness left from makeup off her face, then touched it up. In her own car, she sped to Dent's house./spanspan style="mso-spacerun: 'yes'; font-size: 12.0000pt; font-family:  
'Times New Roman';"br /spanspan style="mso-spacerun: 'yes'; font-size: 12.0000pt; font-family:  
'Times New Roman';"Once there, she knocked four times. She was worried she would wake up his wife, who Aurora assumed was home, or that she would answer. But no one came to the door. There was a good chance Harvey wasn't even home. It was six in the morning; he could have been at the police station, at the same scene as Bruce trying to help however he could, sleeping, or even up watching the news. She knocked again, harder, in hope of him being home. This was important and without it, there was a chance that Bruce—that Batman—couldn't get the job done. Aurora would have to set aside the poor past she had with this man and help Bruce./span/p 


	8. Chapter Eight

p class="p0" style="text-indent:  
21pt; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; line-height: 200%;"span style="mso-spacerun: 'yes'; font-size: 12.0000pt; font-family:  
'Times New Roman';"Aurora sighed heavily as she pushed open her car door and ascended the steps to her grandiose front door. She unlocked it, stepped inside, and shivered from the cold to warm transition. Her eyes were pooled with tears the entire way back home, and her head was spinning with all kinds of emotion, so she was drained and a little disoriented. She pulled off her gloves slowly, setting them on the table right next to the door, then peeled off her coat and hung it on the coat-hanger. Looking around the house, she realized two things; there was no scent of breakfast from Sarah/spanspan style="mso-spacerun: 'yes'; font-size: 12.0000pt; font-family:  
'Times New Roman';", a phenomenon that she couldn/spanspan style="mso-spacerun: 'yes'; font-size: 12.0000pt; font-family:  
'Times New Roman';"'t recall happening before then/spanspan style="mso-spacerun: 'yes'; font-size: 12.0000pt; font-family:  
'Times New Roman';", and the pillows were out of place on the couch. /spanspan style="mso-spacerun: 'yes'; font-size: 12.0000pt; font-family:  
'Times New Roman';"Someone had to be in the house. /spanspan style="mso-spacerun: 'yes'; font-size: 12.0000pt; font-family:  
'Times New Roman';"Aurora froze and sucked in a quiet, sharp breath. It was her own fault that she was about to get killed or worse; she left Bruce's without anyone to guard her, any way to watch out /spanspan style="mso-spacerun: 'yes'; font-size: 12.0000pt; font-family:  
'Times New Roman';"for /spanspan style="mso-spacerun: 'yes'; font-size: 12.0000pt; font-family:  
'Times New Roman';"or protect herself, and she didn't call Sarah to make sure things were okay there with all that was happening. She swallowed thickly with nerves. Glancing toward the stairs, she knew the only escape she had was hiding in a small, secret room that branched out from her walk-in closet./spanspan style="mso-spacerun: 'yes'; font-size: 12.0000pt; font-family:  
'Times New Roman';" There was a gun upstairs, too, if she could just get to it./span/p 


End file.
